


Homesick

by Machancheese



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: A little bit of fun, Angst, Gen, Kidnapped, little bit of whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machancheese/pseuds/Machancheese
Summary: Malcolm gets kidnapped by his father, they go on a nice little get away, but stuff happens.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54
Collections: Prodigal Whump Fic Exchange - Spring 2020





	Homesick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adrenalineshots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy Natty. I spent a lot of time on this and tbh I wanted it to be longer, but we had a time frame so it moved faster than intended, if it seems a little crazy that's why. Have fun guessing!!!!!

  
Malcolm jolted upright, a muffled scream coming from his chest and through his mouthguard, another nightmare ripping him from sleep. Sunshine screeched from across the room. Assuming she was just hungry, he ignored her as he began to undo his restraints. 

“It really is such a shame you have to sleep like that.”

Malcom jumped, looking towards where the familiar voice came from. 

Dr. Whitly was sitting at his counter in normal clothes, with a wild grin.

He had to be hallucinating, there was no way.

“Yes, I am actually here, and close your mouth, boy, before you start catching flies,” Martin answered his question without him even needing to ask it.

“H-How di-d- what time is it?” Malcolm asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes and reaching over to his bedside table for his phone. It was gone.

“Did you really think I would leave your phone in your possession?” Martin stood up from the stool, shaking Malcolm’s phone in his hand. “It's three A.M. We have approximately two hours until they notice I'm gone. Any more questions? ‘Cause we really should get going."

“Where are we going and what makes you think I will willingly come with you?” Malcolm asked, not making a move to get up.

“Well, first off, where we are going is a surprise, but I really think you’ll enjoy it. I'd even call it a vacation. Second, if you don’t come willingly, you already know what that will force me to do. I don’t think you want that.”

“You’ll drug me?” Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Good luck with that, it takes quite a bit to knock me out, and even then, it won’t keep me out for long.”

“Malcolm, my boy, don’t be difficult. I really don’t want to make any threats, but I will if necessary. And the first threat I’ll make will be aimed at that Lieutenant of yours that you are so dearly attached to.” He snarled towards the end.

Malcolm sat back up.“Goddammit! I can’t keep having you do this to me. WHY CAN’T I JUST BE HAPPY!?!” he yelled.

“You're acting like a child and we don’t have time for this.” Martin approached, pulling a syringe out of his coat pocket.

“No! I’m tired of doing what you say, I’m done with your constant manipulation, and I can’t handle being hurt again because of YOU!” Malcolm stabbed a finger at Martin.

Martin took that as his chance, lunging forward, grabbing Malcolm’s arm, and turning it over, exposing his veins. Looking up at Dr. Whitly in horror, Malcolm panicked. He tried to pull away, but it was too late. Like a vicious dog, Martin had already latched on. There was no way to get him to release as he drove the needle into Malcolm’s arm. 

The drug was cool as it entered his bloodstream. Malcolm glanced down just in time to watch Dr. Whitly remove the needle, release his son’s arm, and re-cap the syringe.

“Now, that will take a second to kick in, so I’d recommend you just lay back and relax. As the side effects start, you may panic a little, but there is no need for that.” Dr. Whitly walked towards a duffle bag at the foot of the stool he had been sitting in. 

Malcolm’s eyes widened, a chill running through him. His father actually drugged him. He no longer had a chance. Looking down, he saw his extended arm now resting in his lap. There were angry red marks on his wrist where his father had gripped him and a small puncture wound where the needle had been. 

The world was slowly losing focus. Martin was right, it wasn’t relaxing. Malcolm’s heart started to pound harder and breathing got more difficult. His ears were ringing and his eyelids were growing heavier. 

“Shhh, calm down, take a deep breath. Don’t fight it, where we are going is safe, trust me. This is a chance for you to rest. Accept it, and all the fear will vanish.” Malcolm had no idea when Martin had returned, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand rubbing his son’s shoulder. “Why don’t we lay you back? You're starting to sway a little, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Malcolm distantly felt Martin lower him back onto the mattress. He hummed a rejection, but his father only hushed him as his eyes fell closed and the world dissolved around him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin was smart and stopped to pick up supplies two hours in. He picked up all the foods he missed, some of his favorite books and movies, and couldn’t stop himself from grabbing a game of Clue and a few puzzles. All while Malcolm was kept lightly drugged and handcuffed to the car door’s handle. Martin had placed a jacket on the boy’s hand and situated him so anyone passing by would think he was a sleeping passenger.

They were about three hours into the drive when the radio finally announced his escape. He had about another hour left of the drive before they would reach the beautiful house Martin had purchased from a good friend he’d known since before he was arrested. They had discussed with each other what Martin would want if he ever escaped. Delaware was the location they decided on, being that it was close enough to New York that he could keep updated with what was going on but not close enough he could be easily found. His friend also lived nearby so he could help out with supplies. All it took was a phone call and two weeks for his friend to take care of the arrangements, and Martin had what he needed to successfully escape.

He was excited to finally have quality time with his boy. The main goal of the whole kidnapping was for him to help put Malcolm’s life back together before the kid got himself killed. From there, he would work on training him. It would be a slow process, but he had it all planned out and was in no rush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulling up to the house, Martin couldn’t help but grin. The small home he had acquired was out in the middle of the woods. It wasn’t some trashy shed. Martin made sure it was well updated, clean, and ready for use. He needed Malcolm to be comfortable. He didn't want him to feel kidnapped like he had been with Watkins.

Martin turned off the car and looked over at Malcolm. He was leaning up against the window, eyes closed in a deep sleep.

Stepping out of the car, Martin walked around to open Malcolm’s door. Gently lifting him out, he slung Malcolm’s arm around his neck and half carried, half dragged, the kid to the front porch of the house. There was a bench on the deck that Martin sat Malcolm on. The man was small, but that didn’t make him any lighter to carry unconscious.

Martin unlocked the front door and opened it to a charmingly decorated home. It had a rustic cabin look with a touch of modern, just like Martin asked. This was his first time out of his cell in over twenty years. He wanted to be in the most pleasant environment possible, all while staying hidden.

He turned around and walked back to the car. Martin retrieved his bags, brought them into the house, and dropped them on the couch. 

The house had a kitchen, dining room, and living room all in the same space. There were three doors. Two led to bedrooms and one led to the bathroom.

Martin fetched Malcolm from the bench and brought him into the bedroom he had decided would be Malcolm’s. He laid him down on top of the cover and slid off the slippers he had put on the kid’s feet before leaving the loft. Martin turned on the lamp on the bedside table before exiting the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malcolm awoke from a strangely quiet slumber. He knew something was up when he didn’t hear Sunshine tweeting, and the ceiling he was staring up at was different. Sitting up, he noticed he was unrestrained and in his pajamas.

The room he was in was cozy. A lamp gave it a dim warm hue, a big queen bed sat in the center against a wall, and a dresser lived in the corner. Malcolm felt oddly groggy and confused. Throwing his legs off the side of the bed, he stood up and made his way to the only door in the room. It was cracked, a small sliver of light coming through. Malcolm could hear what sounded like a TV coming from outside. 

He quietly opened the door, sticking his head out to observe his surroundings. To the right was a kitchen with a small round table, and to the left was the TV he was hearing, playing an old black and white film. Facing the TV was a couch, on it sitting none other than his father.

“Dad?” Malcolm blurted, still not completely sure what was going on, and if it was even real.

Dr. Whitly’s head spun around, surprised. “Malcolm, my boy, you’re awake! Come take a seat!” Martin exclaimed, patting the cushion beside him.

“What the hell is going on? Where are we?” Malcolm was puzzled, looking around the house as he approached the couch.

“You don’t remember the conversation we had back at your loft?” Martin sat in a soft sweater and jeans, socked feet resting on the coffee table in front of them.

Malcolm slowly lowered himself down onto the couch, as far away from his father as possible.“No, I don’t. You drugged me, what else do you expect?”

“If you don’t remember, how do you know I drugged you?”

“Because I know you and your psychotic tendencies,” Malcolm jeered.

“Calm down, son. No need to be rude, we are having a civil conversation,” Martin asserted.

Malcolm turned away, his eyes on the TV. “Can you at least answer my question?”

“Prison was getting boring, your health was getting worse. I decided to kill two birds with one stone. You need a vacation Malcolm, and there is no better vacation than a father-son trip," Martin explained.

"Where are we?"

"We are no longer in New York, but I can't tell you much more than that, at least not yet. We are still in the red zone and may need to move, or you could do something risky while in shock of the whole situation, and we do not want that.” He scooted closer. “Now I need you to behave yourself. You need to call Detective Powell. Tell her that you are indeed with me, but you are safe, and I have no intent to harm you. There is no need for them to rush to find you, it isn’t a race with time,” Martin instructed.

“Why Detective Powell?” 

“You brought her to see me, which means you trust her, and if you trust her, she most likely trusts you. You keep who you know pretty private, so I work with what I have.”

“She’ll track my phone,” he countered.

“We don’t have your phone. I left it at your loft. I wrote down her number, and we have a burner phone here that I’m gonna destroy when we are done. Keep it quick so she doesn’t have time to track it. And boom, she has the info, but has no clue where we are.”

“I won’t. They should be worried, you harm me just by being in the same room,” Malcolm refused.

“Don’t forget, I make one call, and Arroyo has a target on his back,” Martin reminded him.

Malcolm dropped his head in defeat. “Fine.”

Reaching into his back pocket, Martin pulled out a small flip phone. He opened it, hit a few buttons, and handed it over to Malcolm. “Remember to keep it quick.”

Malcolm took it. His father must have already dialed Dani’s number, for it was ringing. 

_“Detective Powell, who is this?”_

“Hey Dani it’s Malcol—”

 _“Where the hell have you been, you haven’t been picking up your phone, you didn’t show up to work, there is word going around that Dr. Whitly escaped. Gil is worried out of his mind,”_ Dani scolded.

“Dani take a breath, I am fine.” Malcolm glanced up at his father who watched him intently. “It’s been quite the morning.”

 _“Bright it’s four P.M.,”_ she informed him.

“Ok, you know what, I’m just going to get to the point. I am currently with Dr. Whily. I need you guys to know that I am safe, and he has no intent on hurting me or others. As he put it, ‘Prison got boring, and I need a vacation,’ so here we are relaxing. Father-son bonding time.” Malcolm let out a nervous laugh. Looking up at his father once more, he was met with Martin tapping his wrist, warning him that he was running out of time.

_“Bright—”_

“Dani, I need you to promise me you will take care of Gil, but also keep him on his toes. He’ll need it while I’m gone. Tell him to watch over my mother and sister. Oh! And Sunshine too, I can’t believe I almost forgot Sunshine.” He smiled sadly down at his lap. “I got to go, but know I love you guys, and I’m ok. I’m not about to die or anything like that, there is no need to come find me.”

 _“Bright—”_ she pressed.

“Bye, Dani.”

He hung up.

“Wow, that was heartbreaking. I almost feel bad for taking you away from them. I’ll be taking that back now.” Martin held his hand out, demanding the phone.

Malcolm complied, placing the phone in his father's hand. He stood from the couch and started walking away.

“Where are you going?” Dr. Whily asked.

“I’m headed to the bathroom to go throw up my insides and probably have a panic attack. Enjoy your vacation,” Malcolm responded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gil heard a knock on his door and Dani walked in with a scared look in her eyes. “Gil… Bright just called. Dr. Whitly is gone.” 

“I know he escaped. We’ve known for hours. Where is Bright, he was supposed to come in this morning, and why is he so willing to call you, yet not pick up any of my calls?” Gil questioned, slamming down the mug he had been holding, a little harder than intended, causing coffee to spill over the edge.

“Bright is currently with Martin Whitly.” Dani winced as the words escaped her lips. 

“He is with Dr. Whitly?!” Gil promptly stood up. “What else did he say?” he asked more calmly.

“He said that he was ok, and that we shouldn’t worry about him. They are just having some ‘father-son bonding time.’ He also asked for you to take care of his mother, his sister, and Sunshine,” Dani looked down at her hands as she informed him.

“This kid is going to be the death of me,” he grumbled heading towards the door. “Guess we have some Bright hunting ahead of us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Malcolm was sulking in the bathroom, Martin took that as a good time to destroy the phone. He crushed it up with his booted foot, then threw it into the fireplace. He stared into the fire, watching the phone crack and pop as the pieces turned black and curled in on themselves.

He snapped out of his haze to the sound of Malcolm gagging in the bathroom. Malcolm wasn’t lying, he actually went in there to throw up. Martin walked over to the door and gave it three soft taps with his knuckle.

“Are you ok in there Malcolm?” 

Another cough and the sound of vomit hitting water came from inside.

“I’m going to come in, ok?” he said a little louder.

When no reply came, he turned the doorknob, relieved when it opened. If Malcolm had locked it, he would have had to go grab the key he had hidden under a jar of pickles in the fridge. He knew his son didn’t eat much, and when he did, pickles were not on the list. When Martin entered the room, he was met with Malcolm resting his forehead on the toilet, pale as a ghost, breathing heavily. 

“Oh my boy, this is exactly the reason I brought you out here, you are under too much stress.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Malcolm heard his father knock on the bathroom door, he wanted to stand up and lock it, but he couldn’t. Exhaustion and waves of nausea kept him glued to the toilet. Sure enough, Martin entered the room with a comment that was not useful at all.

Then it hit him. If his father took him before he had gotten up that morning, then Malcolm never took his pills. He prayed that his father brought his medications, or else this was going to be one hell of a vacation.

“D-Did you b-bring my meds?” Malcolm turned his head to his father, forehead never leaving the cold toilet.

“Of course I did!” Martin exclaimed “I’m not here to kill you, quite the opposite actually. Here, let me get you a glass of water,” he said, turning to leave the room.

“Can you bring my meds while you're at it?”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. I’ll be the one distributing your drugs. I’m going to start slowly weaning you off of them. They are making you miserable,” Martin disclosed.

“No, no, no, you can’t do that, you don’t know how I get without my meds.”Malcolm pleaded. “If you think I’m miserable with them, you’ll really be surprised at how bad it gets without them. I’m surprised I haven’t started freaking out already.”

“I’d say you’re halfway there.” Martin chuckled. “Anyway! I’m going to go get your water. Do you think you can make it back to the couch?” he asked more seriously.

“I think I'm fine right here,” Malcolm mumbled.

“Don’t be silly, you should come lay down on the couch and watch a movie while I make some dinner. I’m making your favorite homemade chili mac,” Martin sang, leaving the bathroom.

Malcolm groaned as he pushed himself off the ground, flushed the toilet, and stumbled past his father out of the bathroom. He headed straight for the couch, flopping down on it. Stretching his body across the whole length of it, he threw his forearm over his eyes, blocking out the light. 

He listened to Martin shuffle around the house, the clank of dishes hitting one another. At one point, his father changed the TV to a Harry Potter movie. Slowly, Malcolm’s thoughts drifted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So what you’re saying is we have no leads?” Dani asked.

“Kinda. We searched the traffic cams, following the truck Martin used to pick up Bright from his apartment, all the way to a Walmart in New Castle, Delaware. From there, we lose him. The truck is still there, and he is nowhere in the store, so he must have switched cars. Yes, we lost them, but we know they are most likely in Delaware,” JT assured her.

“Ok, lets work with that, then. If Bright said they are having father-son bonding time, he may be referencing the camping trip from his childhood. Which means we need to look at cabins and homes out in the trees of Delaware. Also, look into the truck, see who owns it. They may lead us somewhere,” Gil suggested.

“On it, boss,” Dani responded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small shake of his shoulder pulling Malcolm from his light sleep, he let out a groan. He was disgusted to wake up to his mouth tasting like stale vomit. He really should have accepted that glass of water before drifting off.

“Dinners ready!” his father exclaimed. “Come on over to the table, I have ice cream and a game of Clue planned for after dinner,”

“I’m not ten anymore, you know that, right?” Malcolm mumbled groggily.

“You are never too old for ice cream and a good board game.” Martin chuckled.

Opening his eyes, Malcolm was greeted by his father standing over him. He disliked how similar it was to one of his many hallucinations, and unfortunately, this wasn’t one. Sitting up, Malcolm rubbed sleep from his eyes and stood up, swaying a bit as his vision turned black. He waited a second for it to fade before following Martin to the small table on the other side of the room.

“Now, I do hope it tastes good, it’s been about twenty years since I last cooked and I didn’t have a recipe, but I do believe I made it for you enough times when you were younger that it's like second nature for me to make it.” Dr. Whitly beamed as he took a seat.

Malcolm silently sat down, looking at the full bowl in front of him. Memories filled him of times where his smiling family would sit around a table, laughing and enjoying the same chili mac that was sitting in front of him. My how things could be so different. 

“Son, it’s gonna get cold if you keep staring at it.” Martin pulled him from his thoughts.

He reached for the spoon, stirring his food a bit, well aware of his father’s eyes staring him down. The pressure too much to handle, he scooped up a single piece of macaroni, swiftly bringing it to his mouth before he had the chance to back out.

His stomach was definitely going to get back at him for it later, but he ate several more bites. Malcolm hated thinking it, but it was delicious, and he missed eating food like it. That, and he really wasn’t in the mood to try to have a conversation with his father.

After several long minutes, Martin finished his bowl and Malcolm pushed his away, showing he was also done. 

“Why don’t you get cleaned up while I do the dishes.” Martin suggested. “I brought some clothes for you, they are in the dresser in your room.”

Malcolm got up and started to head to his room, but stopped halfway. 

“Uh Dr.Whitly—”

“You can call me dad, Malcolm. That is who I am to you, is it not? You said it earlier, why not now?” his father interrupted.

“Martin, thank you for the dinner, but for future reference, you should know that if you make something lighter on the stomach, I will actually eat it. Also, I think I’ll pass on the ice cream and game. I’m getting pretty tired.” Ignoring Martin's question, he gave a fake smile and walked away.

“You’re lying. You’re not tired, all you’ve done today is sleep. And I can feel your anxiousness a mile away. The idea of sleeping without your meds and restraints is terrifying you, but you will be fine, my boy. How about we just work on a puzzle and watch a movie instead?”

“Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just called the owner of the truck, Corbin Beckham. His wife, Addyson, picked up. I told her that Martin Whitly used the truck in his escape, and the second she heard Martin's name, she offered to come in and talk to us,” Dani informed JT and Gil, both raising their eyebrows in surprise.

“This seems a little too easy,” JT said suspiciously.

“Or we finally got lucky,” Gil added.

“Unfortunately, Addyson can't come in till tomorrow morning. She works the night shift at a hospital in Delaware. She will head straight here after her shift.”

“Why couldn't she tell you over the phone?” JT asked. 

“Addyson said she couldn't risk her husband finding out until she is safe here. I'm guessing we are working with a domestic abuse situation,” Dani replied.

“Okay, let's go home and get some rest. Don't stress too much about Bright. He is with a serial killer, but this time, the serial killer happens to be his father. Who claims he has no intent on hurting him. Therefore, he is not in any immediate danger. Martin is probably annoying the hell out of him, but he will be okay,” Gil comforted.

He really hoped Malcolm would be ok. He didn't know what he would do if he wasn't, but for Malcolm's sake, he had to believe he was just having a night in with Martin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Malcolm got in the shower, Martin quickly washed the dishes they used. He grabbed a 2,000 piece puzzle of a busy street in New York from one of the shopping bags he left in the living room and sat down on the couch. Setting the puzzle on the coffee table, Martin reached down in between the couch cushion and the arm rest, retrieving a secret phone he had hidden. He only used it to contact Corbin.

_We have arrived safely. Thank you for the help. Don't 4get to give us a heads up if something changes. TTYL - DMW <3_

He made it vague, hoping if the cops did think that Corbin was involved with Martin, it would be hard to prove it.

Slipping the phone back in between the cushions, Martin grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, and stood to put in The Princess Bride.

Martin decided to start sorting the puzzle while he waited. He had finished separating the edges and middle from each other when he heard Malcolm exit the bathroom. Letting Malcolm get settled, he kept his eyes on the puzzle, working on sorting by color.

Malcolm reached for his own handful of pieces and began his own piles. 

A few minutes passed, and Martin was surprised when Malcolm broke the tension.

“We’re in Delaware,” he stated.

“Smart boy, you found my clue!” Martin chuckled.

“Your clue was pretty damn obvious. I mean, come on, a sweater that has ‘Delaware’ in big white letters says it loud and clear.” Malcolm let his own laugh escape his lips, making Martin smile.

Martin looked over at Malcolm, seeing a son he had never seen before. His hair was wet and down, not even pushed back. He wore the Delaware sweater and a pair of pajama pants, but the most shocking thing was that he was relaxed and smiling. He saw his son without his walls up. He knew he would get them down eventually, but he didn’t think it would be this soon.

“So, who’s Sunshine?” Martin asked as he went back to work on the puzzle.

“That would be my parakeet.”

“You mean the thing that was screaming at me the whole time I was in your apartment? I really think you should rename it, Sunshine doesn’t fit its whole vibe.”

“She just knows when someone is around that shouldn’t be. Don’t feel too offended, she does it to mom too.” Malcolm let another chuckle out.

“That’s a relief. I was scared the bird hated me,” Martin said sarcastically.

“Well, she probably does after the fact that you’ve taken me from her.”

“When did you get her?”

“Umm… Gil actually… him and his wife, Jackie, gave her to me. After the first few years that I was in the FBI, I still hadn’t made any close friends yet, and one visit, Jackie said ‘I was lonely and needed a little sunshine in my life.’ And that is how Sunshine got her name. She handed me the bird, and the next day, she and Gil took a plane back to New York. Leaving me with my new child.” Malcolm gave a sad smile. Martin knew there was something about that story that made Malcolm hurt a little.

“I’ve never heard about Jackie, are you two close?” Martin pushed. This was the most information he had ever gotten out of his son and he wasn’t about to let it end.

“Gil would kill me if he knew I even told you her name. I think I should stop before I say too much,” Malcolm considered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malcolm knew what he was doing was bad. He was opening up to a very dangerous man, but he couldn’t stop. He dreamed of this kind of life with his father for so long. Just the two of them talking, not about murder or Malcolm’s issues, just life. 

“Oh, come on, Malcolm, I won’t use her against you or Gil. If she makes you happy, I won’t hurt her,” Martin protested.

Malcolm could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He missed Jackie so much, he would do anything to hold her, to enjoy her warm dinners, to see her smile.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” He sniffled. She was already gone.

“She passed away.” Martin observed. 

Malcolm nodded, blinking away a tear.

“The day she umm… gave me Sunshine was the last time I physically saw her… alive.” He let more tears fall. “We would call weekly, so I w-would talk to her, but a few weeks before my next planned trip home. She and Gil… got in a car accident. It was a drunk driver who T-boned the passenger side. I-It k-killed Jackie on impact.” He couldn’t hold back the sob that welled up inside his chest. 

There were many terrible weeks spent with Gil after that day. Gil had broken his leg, so Malcolm stayed around as long as the FBI would let him to help Gil around the house and keep him from drowning in his grief.

“I m-m-miss her so m-much. Dad w-why did it have to b-be her?” Malcolm shook his head, now crying uncontrollably.

“Oh, Malcolm, I am so sorry,” his father comforted. Scooting closer, he placed his hand on Malcolm’s back, rubbing patterns into it.

They ended up just sitting there, mindlessly watching the movie as Martin continued to soothe Malcolm, puzzle forgotten. Slowly but surely, Malcolm started to lean in towards his father and he drifted to sleep. Martin pulled him close, resting his head against his son’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malcolm awoke in the morning, his screams filling the room as he came down from another nightmare. 

Laying there a few minutes to let his heart calm down, Malcolm recalled what happened the night before, and instant shame consumed him. That was why he needed his mood stabilizers, without them he was an emotional mess that has no filter.

Getting out of bed, Malcolm left his room. He was relieved to find his father's door still closed and lights off. Which meant he still had time to himself. Malcolm was surprised his screams hadn't awakened his father. Although it was possible that he had been screaming all night and Martin had just gotten used to it.

Malcolm started to explore the small house, no longer having his father looming. He looked in the fridge to find it fully stocked. Locating a couple of bags by the couch, he quietly shuffled through them. He found a variety of activities and supplies, but nothing he could claim was suspicious. Those things were most likely kept in Martin’s room.

Giving up on searching, he returned to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and placing a piece of bread in the toaster. 

Once his breakfast was prepared, Malcolm went and sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table. He leisurely worked on the puzzle while eating his food. He missed his routine, the action of opening each pill bottle, finding safety in order. The sound of Sunshine singing around his loft as he cleaned up her cage and gave her bird seed. Here, it was quiet, there wasn’t even the sound of traffic outside, and he didn’t know what to do next. Malcolm was never good at having free time, he needed work to function. 

Finally, Martin exited his room, startled to find Malcolm up and working on the puzzle. “You're up already!” 

“Yeah, I’m an early riser,” he responded.

“I was going to make breakfast.” Martin pouted disappointedly.

“Sorry, I already ate.” 

“Did you now? Well, I guess I’ll make up something quick for myself, then how about we go on a jog?”

“Sure thing, I’m starting to feel a little cooped up. Um, also, can I get my medications please? The whole thing that happened last night was because of my lack of mood stabilizers, and I’d like to not repeat it,” Malcolm added.

“Malcolm, what happened last night was you finally letting yourself grieve, it wasn’t a bad thing. I think you need to open up like that more often, but of course I’ll go grab your pills.” Martin vanished back into his room.

A few minutes later, he returned with a shot glass with several pills in it.

“I took a bit off of each dose, not enough to cause any problems. Just don’t think about the fact that you are taking less and it will feel like any normal day.”

Dumping the pills in his mouth, Malcolm swallowed them dry and handed the glass back to his father.

“Do you have alcohol hidden in your room that you’re keeping from me?” Malcolm joked.

“Only a little,” Martin teased back, returning to the kitchen to cook his breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only ten A.M. at the precinct, yet it felt like the team had been sitting in the conference room for hours. They had been working on little things to help with the case while they waited for Addyson to arrive.

They hoped she would give them the location to find Malcolm. The whole thing could be over in time for them to all go home tonight knowing Malcolm was home safe and Martin back in his cell.

A little after eleven, Addyson arrived at the front desk. Gil led her back to the conference room, offering her a cup of coffee. She politely declined, taking a seat across from Dani. 

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beckham, I'm Lieutenant Arroyo.” Gil introduced. “You claim to know about Martin Whitly and the stolen truck. Can you tell us more about that?" 

"I've heard my husband talking with him on the phone a few times. He left the day before Martin's escape in his truck, but he came back in a taxi. We knew him before his arrest, he and Corbin were good friends,” Addyson informed them.

“We have reason to believe that Dr. Whitly is at a cabin or home in Delaware. Is there a place that comes to mind that your husband may have provided for Martin?” Gil asked.

“Two weeks ago, he was looking at houses on his computer.” 

“And you didn’t ask him why?” Dani questioned curiously.

Addyson dropped her head. “No, I didn’t… if I don’t ask questions… he doesn’t… hurt me,” she admitted. “That is why I came. I knew if I could turn him in, he would end up in prison, and I’d be free. I could run, change my identity, finally start over.”

“He will. We can get him for aiding the escape of Martin Whitly and domestic violence, if you testify.” Dani assured her.

“Ok, let’s get that warrant and head to Delaware. Dani, I want you to stay here with Addyson and look into all the purchases Corbin has made within the last month. The house has to be in there somewhere,” Gil ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kneeling on one knee by the couch, Malcolm slipped on the second tennis shoe his father had handed to him, leaning down to tie it. 

“Now, I did exercise quite a bit at Claremont, but I’m not as young as I used to be, so we aren't going on a run, we are going to keep it at a light jog,” Martin said while tying his own laces.

“Got it, grandpa.” Malcolm chuckled.

“Oh, how I wish I was a grandpa. That would be amazing, could you imagine? You walking around with a little son or daughter on your hip. Son, you really should get on that, you won’t be this young forever,” Martin pressed.

“You know that is not what I meant. Let’s just go.” Malcolm stood up, walking out the front door, trying to avoid any conversation about kids.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pair jogged up and down the mile-long private road that led to the house. Each time they reached the public road at the end, Martin rushed Malcolm to turn around. 

They did that a few times before Martin suggested they go take a cool down walk on a trail behind the house.

Knowing Martin’s intentions for the trip, Malcolm was pretty sure his father wasn’t leading him out in the middle of the woods to kill him, so he accepted. He’d do anything to stay out of the small house.

Malcolm had only gone on walks like this a few times. The majority of the time, he walked through the busy streets of New York or chased a suspect around the woods, so it was a nice change of pace to be able to listen to the birds sing, reminding him of Sunshine, and observe the green around him. Malcolm didn't want to admit it, but he was actually relaxed. Martin wasn't talking for once. He assumed it was because this was his father's first time out in nature in twenty years, and he was also absorbing it. He knew he would eventually have to think of how to get away, but he was happy where he was in that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Martin was honestly enjoying the time with his son. The first few steps in his plan had worked, and his son wasn't fighting back. He desperately wanted to get to know more about Malcolm's life, but he knew he had to give the boy some time to clear his head. The walk was the perfect opportunity.

Deep in thought himself, Martin was startled when the phone he had brought in case of an emergency started to ring. Knowing if Corbin was calling him, it must have been important, he picked it up, ignoring Malcolm's confused stare. 

“Hello?”

 _“They’re onto us, you need to get out of there now,”_ Corbin insisted.

“How?” Martin hissed back.

_“Addyson decided to leave. She took a taxi to New York after her shift. I tracked her phone, and she is currently at a precinct. So, I’m guessing the police are already on the way or will be soon.”_

“Goddammit! Thank you for the help, stay safe my friend, you know what to do.” Martin hung up.

“What’s going on?” Malcolm asked.

“We are moving locations, unfortunately sooner then I would like,” Martin responded, turning around, heading back the way they came, only at a faster pace.

Malcolm followed, not far behind.

At a brisk pace, they made it back in half the time. Martin ran inside, going straight to his room, leaving Malcolm floundering in the entryway, oblivious to what was going on and what he should do.   
  
Martin opened the top drawer of the dresser in his room, pulling out Malcolm’s bag of pills, the car keys, and a handgun. Before leaving the room, he grabbed his emergency bag he had packed and placed by the door in case they needed to make a quick escape. 

Meeting Malcolm at the front door, he was about to open it when he heard the sirens approaching,

“Shit,” he muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malcolm watched as his father ran out of his room with a gun in hand. His heart dropped — it was getting serious, people could get hurt. He stayed frozen as his father ran to open the door, but sirens were already coming from outside. It was going to get messy fast. 

“Dad, I need the gun,” Malcolm pleaded.

“No, I’ve got this, we just have to slip out the back window.” Martin paced the house, trying to formulate a plan. 

“And where will we go? Will we just roam around the woods until they find us? Just give me the gun, and we can walk out of here unharmed. Dad, this is where things go bad if you don’t make smart choices.”

“Malcolm… I never planned on going back,” Martin confessed.

“MARTIN WHITLY, THIS IS THE NYPD AND DSPD! EXIT THE BUILDING WITH YOUR HANDS UP. IF ANYONE ELSE IS IN THERE, ALSO COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!” Malcolm heard Gil yell from outside.

Taking Malcolm by surprise, Martin ran up to him, putting the gun to his head. “I am so sorry,” his father whispered into his ear.

Martin led him over to the side of the door. He leaned forward, opening it and slowly pushing Malcolm out first, but keeping him close enough to be a human shield. Malcolm could see the worry in Gil's face as he saw the gun pressed against Malcolm’s temple.

“HERE IS WHAT I WANT! YOU LET ME GO, GIVE ME FIVE HOURS TO RUN, AND I’LL LET MALCOLM GO UNHARMED! Martin yelled loudly in Malcolm’s ear. He could feel the rage radiating off of his father’s body.

“You know we can’t do that,” Gil defended calmly.

“Dad, come on, please just let me go, we all know you won’t hurt me. The gun to my head is just stalling the inevitable,” Malcolm coaxed.

“You’re right.” 

Malcolm turned his head just in time to see his father point the gun at his own temple, but a body slammed into both of them, sending them to the ground. A gunshot going off startled Malcolm as he attempted to crawl away from the pile of limbs. He froze at the noise — did the officer kill his father, or did his father kill the officer? 

Pain shot through his side when he went to resume his escape. Malcolm couldn’t stop the groan that came from his mouth as he collapsed onto the dirt. From behind him, he could hear JT reading his father his rights. It wasn't until somebody placed a hand on his back that he realized several people surrounded him.

“Kid, we’re going to roll you onto your back,” Gil said from beside him. 

“I-I’m fine just give me a-a sec to catch my breath and… I’ll be good,” Malcolm huffed out.

Several hands went up and down his body. As they turned him over, pain exploded throughout his whole body, a scream escaping from him without his consent. Still confused as to why he was in pain, Malcolm attempted to sit up, but Dani was suddenly in front of him pushing him back down. He caught a glimpse of Gil putting pressure on his lower left side.

“I-I was the one who got s-shot?” Malcolm whimpered, dropping his head down.

“Unfortunately, yes, but just relax kid. We got you,” Gil comforted.

“M-My D-Dad… is he ok?” Malcolm asked, to Gil’s disdain.

“I’m ok, son, I’m right here. You’ll be alright,” he heard Martin say from somewhere out of his vision.

“JT, would you please make sure he gets back to his cell without causing any more havoc?” Gil directed. 

“Sure thing, boss.”

“T-Thanks JT,” Malcolm replied.

Feeling the warmth of the sun above him started to make him sleepy as people continued to move around him. Knowing his job was done, he let his eyes slip closed. 

“Hey, kid, I need you to stay awake for me. Just because this isn’t the most fatal spot to be shot doesn’t mean that you're out of the clear yet.” 

Malcolm groaned, ignoring Gil’s request and letting light unconsciousness overtake him. He would be home in no time. The vacation was fun while it lasted, but he couldn’t lie, he was getting a little homesick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tap of his cane hitting the ground echoed through the empty space as Malcolm limped towards his father's cell. The bullet ended up scraping his left iliac crest at his hip, but missed all his organs and arteries. 

The gunshot wound was still healing and walking was very unpleasant as the stitches pulled at his skin, but he was determined to check in with his father. The cane was also more dramatic. He could probably make it without it, but messing with his father seemed more fun.

Malcolm was sure he saw his father getting ready to shoot himself. His father had said he had never planned on coming back, yet here he was back in his cell. Malcolm wanted to make sure he was doing ok and show him the damage he had done by being stubborn. 

Mr. David unlocked the door, holding it open for Malcolm. Malcolm staggered into Martin’s cell, his father's eyes going straight to the cane. They stayed silent as Mr. David got Malcolm a chair. Purposefully groaning as he sat down, Malcolm leaned the cane against his leg, meeting his father's gaze.

“Good morning Dr. Whitly. I hope you’re doing well,” he broke the silence.

“I could be better. I bet you could say the same about yourself. No?” Martin said solemnly.

“I’m a little scuffed up, but I’m back to work on light duty. The trip also got me back into puzzles, so I don’t mind having time at home to rest and work on them.” Malcolm gave his father a smile.

“That’s great, I’m glad you are doing good!” Martin took a step closer to Malcolm.“You know son, that taste of the outside world I got made me want to be out there so much more.” Martin threatened.

“Well it is a shame you won’t be seeing it anytime soon.” Malcolm stood, shuffling toward Mr. David. “Goodbye, Dr. Whitly.”

The door locked behind him, his father contained once again.


End file.
